One-shots Galore!
by Aron LeStrange
Summary: Okay! So this is just a compilation of my Hetalia one shots. Stories: Violet; Moonlight Fire; Silent; Bar; IMPORTANT: I have a twitter that shall be used for information updates concerning stories. Link on my account.
1. Violet: RussiaxCanada

**Hola! So yes, I've been debating this for a while now and decided to compile all of them together. Since this was the first posted, it's the first chapter. Enjoy!**

**Songs: None! =D**

* * *

Violet eyes met violet. The two men stood an arm's length apart, the large Russian staring at the smaller, daring Canadian, processing the boy's words.

"You what?" Matthew rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"I said that I love you, eh? I said that you're one of the only people who actually notices me. I said that I, Matthew Williams, am in love with you, Ivan Braginski. And that you are the only person I have ever felt this strongly about, and I'm not scared to tell you, eh?"

"But what about-"

"Alfred can shove off. I'm a grown man who can make my own decisions. And it's not any of his business, anyway." A true smile graced Ivan's lips.

"Ya tozhye tebya lyublyu1, Matvey." The Canadian didn't need to speak the language to understand what was said.

Before Matt could react, Ivan picked him up and sat them on the nearby couch, Mattie on his lap. Their noses were centimeters apart. Deep amethyst bore into blue-violet.

Matthew made the first move. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the surprised Russian. Unsurprisingly, Ivan kissed back.

Within moments, they were welded together, melting into each other.

Matthew felt something soft and wet gently graze across his bottom lip. He eagerly accepted as Ivan started to run his fingers through the younger's hair. Matt let out a soft moan and blushed when Ivan's surprisingly gentle fingers brush up against British Columbia. He felt Ivan smirk against his lips, and his lips back a little.

"You like, da?" The older country murmured huskily. Matt gave a tiny nod, and whimpered when Ivan tugged it gently. His eyes were shut tightly, and he didn't need to open them to know that Ivan was still smirking amusedly as his lips moved to the Canadian's neck. Slowly, tantalizingly, he moved his lips downward toward the sensitive spot on the boy's neck, his hand still playing with the curl. Twisting, rubbing, stroking, and gently tugging, enjoying the whines and moans spewing from the boy's lips.

Ivan gave a particularly hard tug of British Columbia and was confused when Matt tensed under his hands, a low growl slipping from his lips.

"Matvey, did I do something wrong?" He murmured against his porcelain skin.

Instead of words, Matthew shifted himself slightly bringing his heated hands to roughly cup the Russian's face, and attacked his lips, using enough force to actually throw them both onto the floor.

Matthew was on top of Ivan, his knees on either side of the Russian's hips. He grabbed Ivan by his jacket, clenching the fabric tightly, and pulled the larger man up so that they were nose to nose. Ivan complied, somewhat befuddled by the unfamiliar look in the boy's eyes.

Before he could become concerned by it, Matt roughly shoved their lips together. Ivan held back the pleasing shiver that had settled in his spine. He was becoming frustrated by the heat growing in his pelvis and the bulge that had started to grow and was pressing uncomfortably in his jeans. Mattie's change in behavior was turning him on.

Matthew, unsatisfied with the other's hesitant responses, decided to up the ant

He bit the other man's lip painfully. It was hard enough to both draw blood, and to elicit a groan from the larger country. Matt smirked into the kiss, and wrapped his lips around the wound, sucking on it, and relishing the salty-metal taste of the blood, and the needy, whines and whimpers coming from Ivan.

Matt went further and shoved his tongue into the Ivan's mouth. Russia, finally able to get a hold of his actions, was not going to be dominated by the normally docile country. He attacked back, their tongues battling, pushing, dancing around each other, neither gaining the dominance the both craved.

Matthew, however, had been worked up quite well, his own erection pressing painfully against his jeans, and was not ready to give up the hold he had acquired over the larger country. It felt like hours, the two of them battling for the right of seme, and Russia could no longer resist the Canadian. He let out a guttural groan against the lips of the younger country as Matt used his tongue to explore every possible inch of the Russian's mouth.

Finally, they pulled apart, panting and gasping for breath. They stayed like that for a moment, staring at each other. Ivan was startled by the look in his eyes. It was the same look as before, and he only just realized what it was. Matthew's eyes were hazed over and filled with pure, unadulterated lust.

Matt jumped at him again, somehow filled with even more ferocity than before, lips and teeth clashing. Matthew was kissing, sucking, nipping, biting, and licking any exposed flesh that he could find. He even went so far as to remove Ivan's scarf, much to the chagrin of the elder country, though Ivan couldn't bring himself to stop him, a voice in the back of his mind telling him that things were going too far.

Ivan felt something hard brush against his leg, and his already blushing face began to glow brightly, becoming hotter. Matthew slowly let his hands slide down Ivan's body. Hungrily, he moved to remove the larger man of his trousers, but was stopped by two large hands wrapping around his.

Matthew pulled back, glaring angrily at the Russian.

"What is it?" Matt snapped unusually irritably. He was not in the mood to keep teasing. The Russian just looked at him, intently.

"Nyet, Matvey." Matthew grit his teeth and seemed to be deciding between strangling Ivan, and squeezing his easily noticeable bulge. He pressed his hand to the erection and smirked, enjoying the fact that Ivan had flinched and subconsciously lifted his hips up a little before letting them drop back down. Ivan narrowed his eyes a little.

"Why not?" Matt asked squeezing again. "I know you're enjoying it as much as I am." Ivan stopped his glaring and sighed.

"Da," He put a hand to stop the Canadian. "However, I also want you to want this. I don't want you to regret this in the morning."

"But I do want this."

"Nyet, you only think that you do because you are drunk and rogovoy."

"I don't know what rogovoy means, but I know you had even more alcohol than I did."

"I can also handle my alcohol, whereas you cannot."

Matthew opened his mouth to retort, but was again interrupted, this time by a gentle kiss. When Ivan pulled back, Matt was pouting, and looked ready to cry. Ivan just shook his head fondly and managed to stand up, scooping the Canadian up, bridal style. Matthew seemed to have calmed down a bit and just snuggled into the larger man's hold. Matthew didn't move when Ivan set the Canadian down gently on his own bed, and tucked him in.

"Spee, moya lubov." Ivan murmured softly. Matthew tried to sit up, but was gently pushed back down.

"I don't know what you said." Matt said, tiredly. He had most definitely calmed down.

"I said that we will talk in the morning." This seemed to surprise the Canadian.

"You're staying all night?" Ivan nodded in response. Matthew reached out and tentatively took the Russian's hand. Ivan ran his fingers over the boy's hair, this time being careful to stay away from British Columbia, and within moments, the slow, steady breathing of a sleeping Canada could be heard throughout the room. Ivan didn't leave his spot from next to the boy's bed, just watching him fondly as he slept.

"Je t'aime..."Matthew muttered in his sleep, causing Ivan to smile. Perhaps, as different as they were, things could work out. Matt shifted again, and a sudden thought occurred to the Russian.

_'Alfred would definitely __**not**__ be happy.'_

Matthew awoke the next morning, his head pounding. When he tried to remember what happened the night before, it was a blur of alcohol, although a flash of him yelling at Alfred streaked through. Darn it he would need to call and apologize to his brother after breakfast. The Canadian slipped out of his bed, and turned to Kumajiro, who was still asleep. He carefully reached over and shook the bear.

"Kumakana, it's time to wake up." He was ignored. He shook the bear harder. "Kumalin! Come on." The bear continued to sleep. Sighing, He walked to the door and made one last ditch attempt to get him out of the bed. "Kumachan! If you don't get up then I won't make pancakes for breakfast!" Kumajiro lifted his head and looked at his owner. Seeing that he looked completely serious, he stood up and walked over to him.

"Who?" Sighing, Matt picked him up and just shook his head.

"Canada." He carried the small bear down the stairs, used to the forgetfulness, and just played with the polar bear's fur.

As he made his way down the stairs and to the kitchen, the heavenly scent of the best pancakes that the Canadian had ever smelled wafted to his nose, confusing and delighting him. He froze in the doorway of his kitchen, staring the sight before him.

Ivan stood in front of the stove, back to the door. A large orange bowl sat on the counter next to him and ingredients for pancakes were spread out in a jumbled mess. As he just stared at the room, his eyes fell on a large pile of perfectly cooked pancakes sitting on a plate to the right of the bowl, and the telltale sizzle of more pancakes sitting on a griddle.

"Ivan…" He was confused as to why the intimidating country was currently in his kitchen, making the best smelling pancakes that the Canadian had ever had the pleasure to know. Matthew tried to rack his brains, pull some kind of answer from his foggy memory, but nothing came. Ivan turned his head a little and gave a genuine smile toward the smaller country.

"Good morning, Matvey! I hope you do not mind that I made you breakfast~!" The Russian said happily, speak softer than normal so as not to aggravate the inevitable hangover more than necessary. Matt gave an uncertain smile to the happy Russian.

"Thank you, but what are you doing here?"

"You do not remember last night?" There was no anger in his voice, just inquisitiveness.

"N-not really. It's all really hazy." Matthew watched nervously as Ivan took the pancakes off the griddle and slid them onto the stack. Kumajiro wiggled out of his owners grasp and walked over to the counter, but Ivan ignored the bear and walked over to the Canadian.

"You don't remember? Not a thing?" He clarified in a low voice. Matt shook his head and felt his heart beat just a little bit faster. His body was trembling as Ivan advanced on him. The elder country put a hand on either of Matthew's shoulders, and leaned in uncomfortably close, their lips almost touching.

"Not even," Matt gulped his heart beating painfully in his chest so loud that he was sure Ivan could hear it. "This?" The Russian closed the distance between them.

Matthew felt his whole body freeze then heat up in less than a second. His headache lessened, and his mind cleared. The memories from the night before flooded in his mind, and he blushed heavily.

Ivan pulled away and chuckled affectionately at the color that filled his cheeks. He was red enough to be able to rival Romano. Still smiling, Ivan divided up the pancakes between three plates, setting two on the table and the third on the floor for Kumajiro. Matt set himself at the table, still blushing, and gratefully took the cup of coffee and plate of pancakes from Ivan.

Neither spoke through the meal. Matthew's head was spinning still trying to figure out what happened the night before. Ivan was watching him intently. Thoughts were flicking through his head. Did Matt still mean what he had said the night before? And if he did, what did it mean? He had never experienced a really relationship so he had no idea what to expect. He let his eyes wander back over to Matthew and froze. The younger country's pancakes were drowning in syrup, and he was adding still more to his _coffee_. Ivan just rolled his eyes, deciding that, if things worked out, he would try and talk the Canadian into lowering his maple syrup intake.

Half an hour later saw Ivan cleaning up the dishes, ignoring the Canadian's protests, insisting that he still had a hangover and didn't need to be doing dishes. Matthew easily gave in and just sat at the table, waiting. They still didn't converse and Matthew jumped at the sound of loud knocking at the door. Matt quickly jumped up, this time his turn to ignore.

He swore under his breath when he realized who it was.

'_Merde, of all the people, it had to be him…'_

Matthew opened the door and was immediately engulfed in a noogie.

"Hey bro!" Matthew sighed. How had he forgotten that Alfred was coming over to finish their discussion from the night before? His thoughts flicked through the rest of the events from the night before.

…Oh. That's how.

Alfred noticed his 'little' brother's tomato colored face.

"Aww, you happy to see me Mattie? No need to be embarrassed about being in my awesomely heroic presence. I know that I'm just that great." Matt tried to speak, but all that came out was some indignant stuttering. And, as if to make matters worse, Ivan's voice sounded from the other room.

"Matvey? Are you alright? Who's there?" Matt began to panic when Alfred let go and stormed into the kitchen.

"Matthew Williams, explain to me why you let that Commie Bastard into your house." His voice was too calm. Matthew was actually scared for a moment. Alfred only called him by his full name when he was angry at the Canadian. Matthew had only ever heard his younger brother use a tone of such deadly calm once, just before the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

"Privet, Amerika. What are you doing here?"

"I should ask you the same thing! Damn Communist Bastard!"

"Alfred, how many times must I tell you, I'm no longer communist, Comrade?" Ivan sighed, and hid the smile threatening to break out. Alfred was about to open his mouth and most likely shout, but was cut off by Matthew.

"A-Alfred… Please. Please don't fight. Al, he hasn't done anything. I promise, I'm fine." His voice was desperate. Alfred turned to his brother, eyes full of anger, though Matt could see the underling hurt, and concern.

"Don't lie to me, Matt! I'm your brother! I'm not blind! I can see what he did to you!" Matthew froze. What was his brother talking about? It hit him. He realized that he was still in his clothes from the night before, he most likely had a few hickeys on his neck and he knew that his lip was partially swollen. Having a hangover most likely didn't help. It was no wonder his brother thought he was hurt. Matt felt his face heat up again.

"Alfred, please! Let me explain!" His anger dampened at the panicked tone and anxious expression. He gave a nod and grudgingly muttered "Fine." Causing Matt to relax ever so slightly.

"Nothing happened. I- I got drunk last night, you remember. Ivan, he drove me home and decided to stay so that I didn't hurt myself." America did not look impressed.

"And the bruises?" Matthew felt his cheeks glow a bit more.

"Well, I, err! Nothing happened!" He could see that Al was becoming annoyed.

"If nothing happened, then why are you both covered in hickeys?"

"Amerika. I can assure you, that it did not progress any further."

"Stay out of it, Commie."

"But Al! He's telling the truth!"

"But would it have? Tell me! If you hadn't stopped it, would it have gone further?!"

"But that's it, Al! I didn't stop it! Ivan did! I was drunk off my fucking ass and he cared enough that he didn't want to take advantage of me! Alfred, I'm the one who started it! Not Ivan! Why don't you believe me?!"

"Wha-bu-huh?" Alfred looked flabbergasted, his eyes flicking between the two other countries. He finally looked to Ivan, who nodded in confirmation. The American sighed in defeat.

"Matt, d-do you lo- ergh. Do you," Alfred looked like he was going to have an aneurism. "_Love_ him?" Matt started to giggle, both from relief, and the disgust in Alfred's face.

"Y-yes. I truly believe that I do." Both twins looked over to Ivan, who was beaming.

"Co- I mean, Russia, um do ya, err-" Ivan started to chuckle as well.

"You can calm down, Comrade. Yes. Without a doubt. I care about Matvey, and I want him to be happy. I want to protect your brother." Alfred pursed his lips, and he seemed to contemplate their words. Finally, he turned to the Russian.

"I swear, if you hurt him, there will be a second Cold War." And with that, he left. The tension seemed to hang in the air for a moment before bursting like a bubble. Matthew left out a sigh of relief, and Ivan walked over, wrapping his arms around the smaller country.

"Who would have thought that Amerika would approve?" The Russian murmured, kissing right behind Matt's earlobe. Matthew turned his head and captured Ivan in a kiss, which the other easily reciprocated, tasting maple from the Canadian. Matt made his decision. Pulling back, he shyly took Ivan's hand and pulled him the stairs, taking frequent breaks to stop and kiss the larger country.

As he pulled him back to the bedroom, and hoped to whatever deity there was, that Ivan wouldn't stop him.


	2. Moonlight Fire: Fem AustriaxPrussia

**Here's number Two!**

**Songs: Moonlight Sonata -Beethoven**

* * *

She slowly lowered herself onto the piano bench, and gently caressed the keys, with a soft smile. Roseline had been trapped in meeting after meeting with bosses and countries and faces that she hardly remembered for the past week and, as such, had been unable to even enter this room. Honestly, sometimes she was sure that she was addicted to music.

Letting a soft sigh escape her lips, she set the sheets of music, crinkled and yellowed with age, on the piano, and placed her fingers on the keys, so worn yet still looking like new.

She took a deep breath and slowly pressed down, notes flowing from the instrument. After so long a way, her fingers were unsure, but soon picked up, her nimble fingers playing over the familiar tune. She quickly felt her anxiety leave and her body start to relax. Her eyes fluttered closed, not actually needing the paper to play the familiar song. The music seeped into her very core, memories from a night long ago filling her head with thoughts of an annoying albino that never seemed to leave her alone. She became so immersed in the music, humming the song softly, that she didn't notice the door open behind her.

The afore mentioned albino slipped into the room, intending to annoy the only other occupant, and froze in the doorway. The song he had not noticed before now played through his head. He leaned against the doorway, a small half-smile-half-smirk playing on his lips. Not that he would admit it, but he liked to watch her play. After the second time he had snuck in while she was playing, Roseline was much more vulnerable, and open. She would offer herself up completely; let the music become more a part of her then any person could. She was truly a sight to behold, as it was the only time he could see her so serene. He especially enjoyed this song. Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. Though she would deny it, it was their song the one that reminded them both of that single night when they had gotten along.

Getting bored quickly, he decided that she had been playing for long enough.

"Hey Specks!" He greeted happily, preparing himself for what he knew would happen next.

Roseline's fingers froze for half a moment before slamming down on whatever keys that were below. She grabbed the nearest thing she could reach, an ugly vase given to her by Hungary while the two were still married, and chucked it as hard as she could albino's head, missing only because he had the brains to duck. He stood back up and smirked as this was their usual greeting. (A/N: using the term loosely of course.)

The Austrian turned to face him, arms and legs crossed, with a glare.

"Go away." Roseline was not in the mood to deal with Gilbert's harassment. He continued to smirk, and made his way over to the uptight woman. In one sweeping movement, he lifted her up, and took her seat, setting her in his lap, his arms wrapped around her waist. She continued to glare at the wall, refusing to look at the annoying man.

"And if I don't want to?" He snickered in her ear.

"Do it anyway." Roseline mentally kicked herself for the awful come back.

"I'm more comfortable here, actually, leiben." He licked the shell of her ear, causing her to shiver and jump up. She turned and faced him with a withering look.

"F-fick you!" Gilbert leered at her, standing up.

"Now, now, you keeping talking like that, people will start to mistake you for England." He took a few steps toward her. "Although…, I'd be willing to take you up on that offer, leiben." Roseline grit her teeth, reached out and smacked him. Her eyes were full of fire, and she looked ready to throttle him.

"You know what I meant! This is the first quiet moment I've had to myself all week! Can you not go find someone else to bother?!" Was a little peace too much to ask?

Apparently, it was.

"No'p'e." He grinned, popping the 'p'. He completely ignored her anger. "Franny's off visiting his precious Arthur, 'Toni's on some romantic holiday with tomato boy, and West kicked me out so he could spend the night with Feli, making you the only person around." He raised an eyebrow, looking at her like it was obvious.

"Well don't I feel /honored/." She snarked, her face deadpan.

"You should be. Now leave alone your stupid piano, and come spend time with the awesome me." He saw her freeze, and her eyes narrowed dangerously. Everyone knew not to insult her piano. Two hundred years ago Arthur had, and ended up in the hospital.

"Say that again." She hissed.

"You heard me." HE didn't have enough time to react before she tackled him to the ground. Roseline him, hands above his head, and glared at him, eyes full fury.

"I hate you." She hissed. Gilbert had an idea. He wrapped his legs around her waist and flipped their positions so that he was on top, her hands pinned above her head. He pressed one of his legs on her hip, holding her down, the other between her knees.

"You Scheißkerl! Get off of me!"

"Keseseseses! Not yet, leiben. We aren't finished."

The Austrian physically froze, her violet eyes widening under her glasses. She started struggling harder, but his iron grip didn't loosen. Fuck, since when had that damn albino been stronger than her.

"Keseseseses. No need to be so _frightened." _Gilbert hissed into her ear. smirking.

"I-I'm not **scared**! Now get off! This isn't appropriate!"Gilbert decided to ignore her 'request' and, instead, chose to lean forward, capturing her lips into a kiss, satisfied as she soon stopped struggling against his grip. Gently, he prodded her lips, asking for entrance.

Roseline eagerly accepted, having already given up on trying to get rid of the annoying man. However, she about to let him have his fun easily. She let his tongue slip past her lips, then fought him as he tried to gain dominance, both determined not to lose to the other.

Roseline felt herself getting light headed as their tango last longer and longer; she hit his shoulder, weakly. The Prussian pulled back and took in the normally pristine nobel's now disheveled appearance. Her glasses were skewed, and had wavy locks of hair falling from her tight bun. A light pink dusting had taken a place on her porcelain skin. Her chest was heaving up and down trying to return oxygen to her lungs. Roseline watched as the red eyes of the albino started to glow with lust.

The Prussian attacked her lips with a renewed ferocity, he bit her bottom lip, hard enough to make her gasp without draw blood, and took the opening by slipping in his tongue. Not giving her chance to fight back, he explored every inch of her mouth. The Austrian did not appreciate Prussia invading her mouth, but she could say that she didn't enjoy it. She liked it when he took control. She started to wriggle a bit under his iron grip.

Gilbert, irritated by her continued squirming, stood up, and picked her up, bridal style.

"What are you doing?" She asked, breathlessly. Instead of answering, the albino smirked, and flicked his eyes down to her.

Her blush from before had darkened considerably, her glasses had slipped to the tip of her nose, her violet eyes clouded with a small haze of lust, and focused on him. And, for the first time in a while, they weren't filled with hate or annoyance or anger. The lavender colored silk blouse that she was wearing had slipped off of her shoulder, exposing her creamy neck and collar-bone. Gilbert bit back the moan building in his throat, and felt his pants become a bit tighter.

"God, Rose, since when did your uptight ass become such a tease?" Roseline rolled her eyes.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"

"Do you mean Rose, or tease?" He snickered, leaning forward to place a kiss on her lips.

"Both." She mumbled against his lips. He pulled back and pushed the door open with his hip, having found the room he was looking for.

Gently, Gilbert tossed the Aristocrat onto her bed. Crawling after her, he returned to their position from before, easily taking over, watching her, waiting until her amethyst eyes were closed.

Once he was sure that Rose was content enough to keep her eyes closed, he took his free hand and managed to undo the tie from around his neck.

"What are you doing?" Rose murmured, having felt his movements.

"Keseseses. If I tell you, it will ruin the surprise, leiben." He snickered into her lips.

BEfore she could act, he whipped off his tie, and wrapped it around both her wrists and the headboard, tying it tightly. She glared up at him.

"Untie me now." Roseline hissed, not even trying to undo the bonds. She knew that his time as a pirate had taught him how to make a quick and sturdy knot.

Instead of responding verbally, he attacked her neck, nipping, biting, and sucking. She bit her bottom lip trying to restrain the noises trying to burst from her lips. Gilbert gave a particularly hard bite to the soft spot on her neck, smirking when he felt her arch her back and pressing her breasts to his chest, gasping. She pulled at the restraints, writhing beneath him, trying to move her arms, just wanting to _touch_ something.

The Prussian felt his pants becoming uncomfortably tight from the wanton moans and incomprehensible words that were passing passing from her lips. Roseline was squirming, arching her back, and falling back down, her heart hammering in her chest. Her insides were coiling and heat was flowing down in her stomach as his lips moved lower, stopping at the top of her breast.

"G-Gott, Gil, and you call me a tease."She managed to croak out.

"I'm just warming up, leiben."

"Well, wa-arm up faster. I'm dying, Langweiler." She mumbled. He slid his knee up against her pelvis and she groaned, causing him to smirk.

"F-Fick you, Gil. Hurry up." She growled, lifting her hips, trying to get friction against his leg. Gilbert started to reach for her breast, when a loud ringing suddenly filled the house. Gilbert growled, and squeezed her hard.

"Ahh! G-Gil, untie me!" He ignored her. "Gilbert please! Untie me!"

"Why?"

"Because it's probably my boss, now untie me, Sheißkerl!" She noticed the still strong reluctance. "If you don't I will tell Ludwig about your _toys_ in your closet!" He growled but untied her.

She picked up the phone just in time.

"Hello? Err, yes I was busy, I'm sorry. What? Oh yes." He watched as her expression became frustrated. "I'll be there soon. Good bye."

She turned to Gilbert, fixing her clothes, looking at the Prussian tiredly.

"That was my boss. Apparently there was a meeting he _conveniently_ forgot to tell me about. I swear, the man hates me. I have to go." Gilbert had a sour look as she herded him down the stairs and out the door. "However, I'd love to finish up later, if you want to that is."

He looked at her, stunned, as she gave him a wink, and quickly pecked him on the lips.

"Oh definitely..." He murmured as she got into her car and drove off. Maybe interrupting her wasn't such a bad idea after all. Either way, one thing was certain.

Moonlight Sonata would always be his favorite song.


	3. Silence: Fem Russia&Fem America (Angst)

**Number Three! Okay, warning! This one is very angsty. I wrote this while very upset, however, my situation turned out much better, thankfully.**

**Songs: Little Things -One Direction**

* * *

Katyusha was beginning to worry. It had been two hours since her sister had returned home. Ivana had seemed upset, but had retired to her room before anything could be said. She still hadn't come out.

Sighing, her eyes traveled to the dark and snowy Moscow sky. The colorful turrets of St. Basil's cathedral could be seen poking up in the distance along with the bright lights of the Red Square. Her eyes were staring out at the familiar scene without really seeing. In all her years of taking care of Ivana, she never known her sister to act like this, and she was debating whether to go upstairs and check on her.

Setting her book down, she rose from the squishy armchair, her decision made without even realizing it. Quietly, she slipped up the stairs of her sister's darkly lit home. She felt a pang of guilt and saddness, remembering a time when the house had been warm and bright, filled with other countries. Fumbling down the hall (why was the light switch at the other end?) she passed many doors, names written the countries underneath. There were the three Baltic states first, Latvia's room nearest to her, Toris' (Lithuania) old bedroom farthest of the three, with Eduard's (Estonia) situated in the middle. She saw others with peeling names like Armenia and Uzbekistan. At the opposite end of the hall were the only three bedrooms that were still used. Her own, Natalia's (Belarus), and the room she had been looking for in the middle.

Katyusha stopped in front of her sister's familiar door. She didn't need light to see the white wooden door painted with pictures of sunflowers. She reached a hand out and gently knocked on the door.

"Ivana? Is everything all right?" There was silence. "Sister. May I please come in?" There was a soft snuffle but no response. Slowly, she pushed the door open and was met with a numbing sight.

Her sister, her strong, simplistic, and easy going sister was curled into a ball on her bed, her head buried in her arms, and her body shaking with silent sobs. Kat practically ran to her, wrapping her arms around the younger woman, rubbing her shoulder soothingly.

"Ivana, my dear sister, what is wrong?" She asked softly. Ivana just started to cry harder, her thin body trembling. "Please, Iva, tell me what is wrong. You know that I only want to help." Kat continued to rub circles, hoping to calm her down. She was silently thanking whatever deity there was that Natalia was not around. Their violent, youngest sibling would only make things worse.

Slowly, Ivana managed to lift her head, and she looked at her older, motherly sister; her violet colored eyes were red and puffy. What scared her though was the hollow look in her sister's eyes.

"Amelia." She croaked, barely above a whisper. Her red lips were trembling. Kat looked confused.

"I- I told her. I mean, I… told her that I loved her. I- I just. I don't know why. I…" She looked at her sister desperately. Her voice was barely above a shaky whisper. Her reaction just confused her elder sister even more.

"But… shouldn't this be a good thing, sister? You have been wanting to tell her for very long time, da? Why are you so sad?" Ivana just shook her head in response. Tears were blurring her vision and she could feel them threatening to over flow again.

"Nyet, sister. I- I should not have said anything. Sh-she did not... She said nothing. Still hasn't. I wish, I just wish she would have reacted." Ivana was becoming hysterical and looked as though she was going to continue crying at any second. "Even rejection or disgust would be better. This- This silence. It is awful, sister. At least, at least with her hate, I would know what to do. I- I would at least know how she feels in return. I cannot stand not knowing if she hates me or not." The young Russian opened and closed her mouth a few more times, before finally shaking her head and giving up trying to speak through her anxiety.

She closed her eyes and let the tears fall again, pulling her knees tighter to her chest and wrapped her arms around her older sister's neck, crying into it, feeling like a child again. Kat wrapped her arms protectively around her younger sister, stroking her ashen colored hair, neither saying a word. Eventually, her sister stopped shaking, and within moments, she felt Ivana's soft, steady breath on her collar bone. Katyusha pulled back, untwining her sister from her, and kissed her forehead, laying her back down on the bed.

Kat was greatly concerned by the effect that the American's silence was having on her younger sister. She knew of their history-who didn't, after all-and remembered how her sister had fallen apart after the Cold War. She had been nervous when Ivana had told her about the strange feelings she had been having around Amelia. She did not know the American well, but had heard much about her from both Matthew, Amelia's older brother, and Ivana.

Sighing softly, she picked up the phone in her sister's kitchen and dialed the familiar number. "Hello?" Came the sound of Matthew's familiar, and soft, Canadian voice.

"Matvey. I need your help, please. It is very important." She could hear the confusion in his voice.

"Kat? What's wrong? Are you all right?" The Ukrainian woman bit her lower lip, unsure if Amelia had informed him of what had happened.

"It is Ivana. I am very worried for her."

"Why? Kat seriously, tell me what's wrong already, eh?"

"I told you about Iva's… feelings toward your sister as of late, da?"

"Yah…so?"

"Well, Ivana apparently told her today, and received only a shocked reaction. Matvey… Amelia has said nothing since. Please, Matvey. I need you to talk to your sister for me." Katyusha could feel a few tears welling up in her own eyes. "Please. I have not seen Ivana cry since the Cold War happened. She did not even cry when the Soviet Union was broken apart, granted she was probably too shocked to feel anything. Even then, Matvey, it was not even close to this. I'm worried about what will happen to Iva if Amerika continues to ignore her. We both know that Iva is already not the most stable person. I am scared of what this will do to her sanity." She was ready to burst into hysterical tears. Her voice was a whisper. "Please."

Matthew was silent letting his friend's words sink in. He didn't know Ivana that well, only what he'd seen. Ivana, creepy, impenetrable, Ivana was upset- no, crying- and it was worrying Kat. Mon dieu... this was bad.

"Sure. Of course, Katty." Katyusha barely managed to catch what he said, his voice was even softer than usual.  
Kat felt a huge sense of relief and managed to calm down.

"Thank you, Matvey. I mean it, thank you." She set the phone down and felt a small smile creeping on to her face. Soft footsteps came from the hall way and she turned; her grin fell into a look of concerned shock, and a little fear, at the sight of her sister.

Ivana was standing in the doorway. She looked awful. Her ashen hair was tangled, and ruffled. Her violet eyes were still red, though less puffy, and tear streaked; the look they held, Katyusha would never be able to forget. The childish light that they usually held was gone, leaving them dimmed, and empty.

"A-are you feeling any better, Iva?" Her sister shook her head.

"I am sorry for the concern I have caused you, sister. I assure you, it will not happen again." Her voice, scratchy from crying, was monotonous and dead. Kat's worry flared again.

"What do you mean, sestra?" She tried to give a cheerful smile, but it faultered, fear and concern still in her eyes.

"It does not matter. My emotions should have no precedence, and I should not have broken down like that. I-" She took a deep breath. "I am done with that Capitalist pig."

Katyusha could only watch helplessly as her sister left the room, knowing that there was nothing she could do to change the Russian woman's mind.

Kat took a breath and steadied herself. She knew that if she weren't as nice as she was, she would be setting Natalia, her violently over protective (to the point that she was the only person who could scare Ivana) youngest sister after Amelia.

Ivana had to be truly upset if she would go this far. Her sister had become so hurt that she had let ice like that of her precious Moscow close over her heart, not wanting feel the pain of it broken.

Kat was disappointed, and sad. If only there was more she could do, but she knew better. Iva was stubborn and determined to avoid what she perceived as weakness, even if it meant letting apart of herself die along with it.


	4. Bar: Fem AmericaxFrance

**Yay~! Okay, here's a tiny one-shot/ almost Lemon just for valentines day~! Hope you like! (O_o)?**

**Re: 4-19-13 - VVV**

** Songs: Don't Trust Me- 3OH!3; Starstrukk - 3OH!3; My First Kiss - 3OH!3**

* * *

"Hey, Mattie~! Want to go out with me tonight?" The Canadian cringed at his sister's greeting. Sometimes- no, scratch that, _always_- she was too loud. He turned to look at her, about to remind her about the last time and _why_ exactly that was a bad idea, when he was floored by her expression. She was looking at him with her puppy dog eyes and pitiful expression, and he was almost tempted to agree. Key word being 'almost'.

"I'm sorry Amelia, but I've already made plans to spend time with Ivan," He really did look sorry. He knew how she would get when she was drunk. And it was not pretty. She definitely needed someone to look after her. "Maybe Arthur will go with you?" Amelia just shook her head.

"Nah. I already asked him. Besides, you know how he is. Either he'd stay sober and nag the hell out of me, or drink his ass off and get all weepy or even become more of a pervert than France, Spain, and Prussia." Matthew wanted to say something in Francis' defense, but well… it's Francis.

"I'm sure you'll find someone to go with you. You always do." Amelia shrugged and left to go bother another country- probably Japan- or even go pick a fight with Ivan, that was always a fun way to pass the time.

* * *

Amelia sat at the bar, cross legged, one shoe dangling off of her toes, strapless black mini dress leaving little to the imagination. Her golden curls brushing the tops of her shoulders. She swirled her glass of beer, bored.

"'Ello Ma Chère~!" a horribly familiar voice sounded. Amelia rolled her eyes, and gave an irritated snort when the blonde wrapped his arms around her waist.

"'Sup Francis. Let go of me now." He ignored her request, choosing to move his hand downward and graze his fingers across her stomach, resting just under her belly button. Amelia shivered involuntarily, and reached a hand down, grabbing a hold of his wandering fingers.

"Not here, Froggy, but I'm game if you want to go back to your place." The French country did not miss the mischievous look in her eyes, or the suggestive tone of her voice.

"Your wish is my command, Mon Amie."

Grinning, Amelia stood up and made to pay for her err… _many_ drinks, but was stopped by the Frenchman. Pulling out his wallet, he laid some bills on the counter, and took her hand, leading her out of the bar.

* * *

Francis quickly unlocked the door to his house and let the American in first, slipping up behind her.

As soon as he stepped through the door, he attacked Amelia, pushing her hard against the wall, reaching back with his foot to close the door shut.

His lips immediately went for her neck, starting just under her jaw and slowly, _ever_ so slowly, moving lower; first nipping her skin, then running his tongue over the skin that would most definitely be bruised. As his lips lowered, a trail of marks were left. Amelia bit her own tongue to hold back a groan. However, her plans were foiled when his teeth dug extra hard into her neck, having found her sweet spot. Francis smirked into the crook of her neck.

"Excited, Mon Ange?" He looked up at her with an expression that could almost be classified as innocence, if it weren't for the fact that his eyes were half closed and glowing with lust. She could see the fantasies running through his mind.

"Well you are the best at getting me _worked up~!_" She gave a suggestive grin, the tip of her pink tongue poking out from between her teeth.

"Oh there are many things I'm _much_ better at, Ameriquè." She could practically feel him inside of her and it did nothing to quell her growing arousal.

"Trust me, Frenchie, I know." He brought his lips up to hers, snaking his arms around her waist, and groping her butt to pull their bodies closer. Francis could feel the heat from their two bodies pooling together, and he groaned into her mouth, feeling the bulge in his pants grow. Amelia trailed a hand down his chest, over his hips, and cupped the Frenchman's groin. She smirked, gently squeezing. Francis let out a gutter groan, biting her lip hard; almost enough to draw blood, twitching his hips at the spark that shot through his body, making his toes curl.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who's _eager_, Franny."

"You just have that effect on me, ma chère." He whispered huskily moving his mouth from her lips to her ear, his voice laced with lust. She shuddered as his teeth grazed her earlobe, moving to suck on it.

Amelia bit her already tender bottom lip, holding a moan- or what noise wanted to be heard. It became increasingly harder to do as she felt Francis slide his hand down and resting it below her hips, between her legs.

"Nnggaahh… Francypants…" He smirked slowly- _oh god dammit_ too slowly- dragged a single fingernail back and forth. His ever present grin widening, he just as slowly dragged his tongue over the shell of her ear, causing her to shudder again, and moan in pleasure. Still as slow, he licked her jaw, capturing her lips again. Amelia pulled back for a moment, so that she could whisper two words to him.

"Brace yourself."

Her arms had made their way around his neck, and she hoisted herself up, wrapping her legs around his waist, leaving little space between them.

Francis' hands clasped her bottom again, keeping her steady, and brought their lips back together. This time, though, Amelia fought back, lips and tongues both trying to claim dominance over the other. Her mouth filled with the taste of roses and wine, causing her to feel even more intoxicated and light headed. She wrapped her slim fingers tightly through his blonde locks, pulling hard.

The young American could feel his erection pressing against her, making the both of them just that much hornier, and she decided to have a little fun, grinding against him, humming against his mouth. He groaned in response, and pulled back.

"Oh… Mon dieu, Mon Amie… you are just asking for it, aren't you?" He hissed. He pressed her backwards into the wall so that he could remove his hands from her ass and trailed them upwards. He groped her breasts, devouring her lips, and her pleasured mewls. Even if she could have gotten breath into her lungs, she would have been unable to speak.

"Would you like to continue this in a place a bit more _comfortable_, Mon Amie~?" Francis taunted. Amelia jerked her hips roughly into his, making her intentions clear. Getting the message, he held onto her tightly and carried her to his bedroom, frequently taking breaks to discard clothing and tease the younger country.

* * *

**Uggh! (O~O) Okay... so... yeah... This is really short... and bad... Sorry. This was a request from a friend and... well... I'm not good at requests... Anyway. Please don't kill me for being too chicken to keep going, And on a happier note, I am in the process of another RusAme story that should be much better than this... and err... Happy Valentines Day?  
**

**Re: 4-19-13 - VVV**

**So I'm still working on that RusAme story, for those interested. **


End file.
